


Healing Wounds

by IndigoNight



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: M/M, Panic attack/traumatic flash back, and past mutilation (castration), vague references to past non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for <a href="http://classics-fandom.livejournal.com/430.html?thread=2734#t2734"> this prompt</a> on the <a href="http://classics-fandom.livejournal.com/"> Classics Fandom Kinkmeme</a>: Some sort of AU in which Nasir was castrated as a boy to preserve his youthful looks. I want to see Agron discovering this for the first time to Nasir's embarrassment, and trying to make him feel good anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Spartacus or the characters I’m just borrowing them for fun.  
>  **Spoilers:** Vague one for roughly the first half of Vengeance.  
>  **Warnings:** Panic attack/traumatic flash back, vague references to past non-con and mutilation (castration)  
>  **Author's Note:** Fill for the [ Classics Fandom Kinkmeme ](http://classics-fandom.livejournal.com/). Thanks to [ Chai ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydirtychai/) for the beta work. Read, Review,  
>  Enjoy!

It was late. The temple was quiet, most of the rebels either having retired to their makeshift beds or sitting in small groups to talk quietly. Agron moved among them, looking for one particular dark head. He had not seen Nasir for some hours, and though the boy was healing well Agron could tell that the terrible wound on his side still pained him and he could not help but worry.

Agron found Nasir in the small room the rebels had set aside for washing. The Syrian was still naked, his hair wet and freshly washed. He had his back to the doorway where Agron stood so that the German had a perfect view of his broad back and the graceful curve of his buttocks. Nasir had one arm lifted, attempting awkwardly to smooth and braid his hair while the other arm was pressed against his half healed side. There was tension in his shoulders, the movement obviously causing him pain and frustration.

Agron could not help but pause a moment to enjoy the sight of strong thighs and tight muscles that until that moment were unseen to him. It struck him as odd to realize that though it had been several months now since Nasir had joined their cause and caught Agron’s eye, he had not yet seen the man fully naked. Even when Nasir had lain wounded and sleeping, Lucius had kept him covered. It was a small thing, but a strange one to realize; there was little enough privacy to be found in the small but crowded rebel camp, and modesty was a thing easily lost.

But Agron had lingered too long and Nasir noticed him with a start. He did not fully turn his body, looking over his shoulder at the German instead. His cheeks turned faintly pink as he noticed Agron’s gaze and his hand drops. “Remove eyes and set lips to purpose,” he chided, embarrassed but not wholly displeased by Agron’s presence. Agron was leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on Nasir and his lips quirked in a crooked smile.

“Apologies,” Agron said, though the quirk of his lips did not look very remorseful. “I would offer aid,” he added, gesturing towards Nasir unkempt hair. He knew it bothered the smaller man to have it loose and unruly about his face, and had seen him accept help from the women when his wound was bothering him.

Nasir’s flush darkened a little more, but he nodded. “Gratitude,” he said softly. Agron needed no further prompting and entered the room. He stood behind Nasir, gathering the heavy waves of his hair and running his fingers through them to comb out the tangles. Nasir sighed softly, almost leaning back into Agron’s touch as he relaxed.

“Your wound still pains you?” Agron asked after a moment, already knowing the answer but feeling uncomfortable in the silence that hung heavily over them.

Nasir sighed and nodded, looking reflexively down at the wound, which had mostly healed to the deep red scar that would mark his skin for the rest of his life. The movement pulled his hair from Agron’s hand and the German grunted in complaint; obediently Nasir stopped movement. “Do all wounds heal so slowly?” Nasir asked with a huff.

Agron chuckled. “Some,” he said. He had finished smoothing and untangling Nasir’s hair as best he could and began to clumsily braid the top part of it. “The deeper they run, the slower they heal. Yours was very grievous; you are lucky it healed at all.” He could tell from the way Nasir’s shoulders twitched that the smaller man was smiling.

“Did you come with a purpose?” Nasir asked after a moment, as he handed over the leather tie he used to hold his hair. “Or simply to steal glances unasked for?”

Agron smiled as he tied off the braid. “I have rescued some wine from the Gauls,” he explained, running his fingers through Nasir’s hair once more. “I thought you might share it with me and talk awhile before we find rest.”

“An offer most welcome,” Nasir agreed with a grin. He pulled away from Agron, half turning as he reached for the simple cloth he wore wrapped around his waist when he had no need of his mismatched armor. Agron’s eyes dropped reflexively, watching as the torch light glinted off of Nasir’s freshly washed skin. There was no denying the boy was beautiful, though still young, his muscles smooth and body hairless. He must be coming of age, Agron thought, though it was difficult to place his years for certain. Surely he would soon begin to grow his beard and his muscles would firm up; perhaps he would even grow a little taller, though Agron rather liked that the boy fit so well beneath his chin. 

Before Nasir could secure the cloth around his waist, Agron’s eyes fell to what hung between his legs. He was no stallion, his cock small, but that did not put Agron off; beasts such as that Gaul, Segovax, sent an uncomfortable shiver down his back. It was what _should_ have hung underneath Nasir’s cock that made Agron pause. There was nothing there but a small wrinkle of loose skin, and Agron could only stare in shock. He must have made a sound because Nasir stopped, noticing his gaze and following it down as though he himself had forgotten what lay between his legs and needed the sight as a reminder. His whole body flushed in shame, his fingers moving quickly to cover himself as he wrapped the cloth tightly around his waist.

“Nasir...” Agron started, though he was unsure what to say. He felt a fool; he should have known. Suddenly it all made sense - Nasir’s hairlessness, the way his eyes seemed so much older than his face, why he took such offense when Agron called him “little man” and why some of the others laughed so hard.

“Apologies,” Nasir cut him off. The Syrian would not met his eyes, his blunt fingers fumbling with the tie of his wrap. “I... fear I am more tired than I realized. Perhaps you should share the wine with another.” He turned, as though to flee the room without looking at Agron, but the German reached out and caught his arm reflexively. Nasir was tense under his touch, almost trembling with humiliation. He hated when others looked upon his naked body, hated the looks of pity or revulsion he always saw in their eyes when they saw all that the Romans had taken from him.

“Wait,” Agron blurted, squeezing Nasir’s arm so that he could not flee. “Apologies. I... I am unused to such sights.” He fumbled awkwardly, realizing he had offended the smaller man and not wishing to lose his company. “We- My people, we do not take a man’s manhood unless we also intend to take his life,” he tried to explain. He had seen a few eunuchs before, in the markets where he and his brother had been sold, but the very concept was still strange to him.

Nasir hesitated. His cheeks were still pink with shame, but his lips had pressed together with a defiant sort of pride and there was a dark wariness in his eyes. Agron had seen that look on his face before, though never so strong. Like a pup watching the alpha dog, waiting to see if he would be licked or kicked.

“I did not mean to offend,” Agron finished lamely, words escaping him as he stared down into those dark, fierce gaze. Nasir stared back him, eyes narrowed warily as he searched Agron’s face. After a moment he swallowed and nodded slowly. “I would still share wine and words,” Agron added hopefully as Nasir began to turn away from him.

“You still hold interest?” Nasir asked, his lips parting in surprise, “now that you know I am... not the man you thought?”

Agron frowned and shook his head, purposefully not understanding the meaning of Nasir’s words. “I still see the man who made attempt upon Spartacus’ life,” he pointed out, “and who then took up sword in defense of the same man. The man who risked his life to help those trapped within the mines, and who now bears the mark of brotherhood for it. Are you not still that same man?”

Nasir stared at Agron for a long minute, searching his face. Then he swallowed and nodded slowly. “Gratitude,” he whispered, averting his gaze so that Agron would not see the way his eyes grew wet. None had ever spoken such to him before, valuing his deeds above his body. Agron wrapped a reassuring arm around his shoulders. The German seemed stiff and almost uncertain at first, but he pressed a barely there kiss to the top of Nasir’s freshly washed hair and lead him from the room.

 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Several hours later, the wineskin Agron had stolen was nearly empty and both men were much more relaxed. They had retreated to the corner of one of the inner rooms where they had spread out their bedrolls. Room was sparse within the temple and several others slept in the large room with them, but secluded in their corner, Agron and Nasir were able to talk quietly without disturbing the others. They had been talking of light matters while they passed the wineskin back and forth, discussing Nasir’s training and that of the other rebels mostly. But as the torches burned low and the wineskin grew light, they both fell silent.

Nasir leaned against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and elbows braced on them. He stared across the room at the flickering flame of the dying torch, his mind and heart still heavy with shame and anxiety. He was grateful for Agron’s kind words earlier, but shame still burned in his chest, causing a sort of tension to lie between them, a distance that he feared to attempt to breach.

“How did you not know?” Nasir asked suddenly, the words slipping from his lips before he could catch them. “Surely you had noticed that I am...” he trailed off, not liking to say it. Even if Agron was unused to the sight of eunuchs, the differences were obvious. Nasir knew how to roughen his voice somewhat, and often did so reflexively among the rebels, but Agron must have noticed his hairlessness, the softness of his muscles.

Agron didn’t look up, seeming to have expected the question. He took another slow drink of the wine, putting his words together carefully before he spoke them; it was not something he did often, but he did not want to offend Nasir again. “I thought you too young to grow a beard,” he said after a moment, with a half shrug. It was obvious now that the boy was older than he had assumed, likely not a boy at all.

Nasir nodded slowly, accepting the wineskin gratefully so that he could take another drink. That was not unreasonable, after all, his dominus’ intention had been to preserve his youth and beauty, or so he had said. He hugged his knees a little tighter, feeling small as he remembered his dominus handing him over to the men who had cut him. He had felt small then, and frightened, not understanding what was happening. He had been convinced at first that he had done something wrong and was being punished for it, though he could not figure out what it could be.

“How old are you?” Agron asked. His voice was soft so as not to wake the others that slept nearby, but as it pierced through Nasir’s thoughts it seemed loud and he nearly jumped. He glanced sideways at the German, frowning a little.

“I do not know,” he answered truthfully after a moment. He had had no one to count his early years for him, and he had only one marker to measure the passing of his life with - before and after his manhood was taken. Before was but a blur of seemingly endless days half lost to memory. “It has been six winters since my gelding, I think,” he said with a shrug, the only means he had of tracking his life. “My dominus waited until I began to often grow hard in my sleep,” he added. He had not meant to say it, but it seemed once the words began falling from his lips he could not stop them. “He had them cut carefully, so that I would not be _damaged_.” There was a soft, bitter irony in his voice, a lump rising in his throat.

He remembered it with painful clarity. They’d gone into the nearby city, to a shop behind a stable that stank of blood and fear. He had been stripped naked and strapped to a wooden table by strange men, his dominus hovering over them and insisting that they take care not to _ruin_ him. The men had made jokes to assure his dominus, laughing over him as though he was nothing more than an animal, as though he could not hear them. Then one had picked up a knife, and everything after that for many weeks was nothing but a blur of pain.

He jumped when Agron’s hand landed on his arm. He had become lost to his memories, forgetting where he was and not realizing that his breath began to come short and panicked. Agron’s eyes were sad when Nasir glanced up to meet them, and worse they were full of pity. Nasir’s heart turned over and he pulled away. He should have known better than to hope, better than to let his foolish soft heart begin to believe that his fierce German warrior might actually desire him, might actually treat him as equal.

“I would clear head,” he mumbled, pushing himself to his feet. His chest felt tight, his lungs refusing to take in air properly, and he could not face the pity in Agron’s eyes. So he fled the room, not stopping until he reached the cool night air of the courtyard before the temple. If Agron called out after him, he did not hear.

He fell to his knees in the dirt before the temple steps, gasping for breath. He found himself shaking, skin twitching with the phantom touches of his dominus, now many weeks dead. How could he have been so foolish? He’d actually dared to believe that Agron didn’t care, that Agron could still view him as a man, as worthy, as equal. He’d tasted freedom, been treated as a man with strength and thoughts worthy of notice, but it had been a lie and all he’d thought he had was lost. Agron pitied him. Never again would the fierce German view him as worthwhile. Would Agron still look upon him with desire? The thought made Nasir’s heart tear anew. It had been so nice to know the gaze, the touch of a man who seemed to truly desire him, not to control or to possess him. But Agron desired _men_ , and he was not a man, not really.

“Nasir!” Agron’s voice tore through him, making a sob catch in his throat. Suddenly the German was there in front of him, gripping his shoulders and forcing him to sit up.

“Do not touch me!” he growled, yanking away from Agron reflexively. His heart hurt, shame burning in his cheeks. Agron stared at him, green eyes round and confused.

“I do not understand,” Agron complained. They ended up sitting facing each other in the dirt, Nasir’s chest still rising and falling rapidly as he blinked childish tears from his eyes. “You favored my touch but hours ago. What has changed?”

“Everything!” Nasir cried. He was hurt and angry and he was desperate to lash out, a thing too long denied to him. “You think I cannot see the pity in your eyes? Now that you know I am only half a man. You will treat me different, like a woman or child. You will kiss me different too, if you still wish to kiss me at all!”

“Calm heart and still tongue,” Agron growled, gripping Nasir’s face to prevent him from pulling further away. “You make judgments and accusations absent cause. Have you not enjoyed our time together? Enjoyed my kisses? If you no longer wish for my company you need only say the word. But do not put such words in my mouth when they have not crossed mind or tongue!”

“I am not the man you thought me to be,” Nasir insisted in a small voice. It was hard to remain so upset when faced with Agron’s stormy eyes, brows drawn together over sparkling depths that burned with such passion. Agron’s hand was still on Nasir’s cheek, long fingers curling around his face, fingers that Nasir knew held such power within them and yet had only ever touch him with gentleness and kindness.

“Nor were you the man I thought you to be when we first met,” Agron pointed out, his own voice growing softer as he shifted closer. “Nor the man I expected when I bid you hide the truth about Naevia’s fate. Nor the man I feared would perish of grievous wound. You constantly surprise me, Nasir, constantly prove yourself not to be who I expect.” 

Nasir blinked several times, his long lashes clumped with the tears he had only just managed not to shed. He swallowed, it taking effort to meet Agron’s earnest gaze. “Do you still wish to kiss me?” he asked, words little more than a whisper. Agron’s face hovered close to his own, and he knew Agron would have no difficulty hearing him. So close Nasir could see the way Agron’s eyes lighted, how his lips immediately began to turn upward. But then Agron paused, his eyes dimming again with hesitation.

“I ask nothing you are not willing to give,” the German said softly, shaking his head.

“I would give it,” Nasir answered immediately, before pausing and blushing a little. “If you would receive it,” he added softly, dropping his gaze.

Agron huffed a laugh, tightening his grip on Nasir’s chin and lifting it. He leaned in, slow, giving Nasir plenty of opportunity to pull away, before he captured Nasir’s lips in a chaste kiss. Nasir’s mouth fell open automatically, inviting Agron in. His hand lifted to curl in the straps of Agron’s armor, pulling him closer as he pushed up onto his knees to gain better leverage. 

“I think that is enough words for tonight,” Nasir whispered, words soft and hot against Agron’s lips. The German only nodded, his eyes bright in the starlight as his hands dropped down to curl around Nasir’s waist and pull the smaller man closer.


End file.
